


Meetings in the Dark

by AngeNoir



Series: Gifts for Tumblr Users [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Harm to Children, M/M, Period-Typical Racism, Racist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes up from the gym, looking for something to drink, and he finds Tony having a nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Main chapter is the third; chapters one and two are background chapters for both Steve and Tony.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theprodigalsonreturns](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=theprodigalsonreturns).



> So this is a gift for [theprodigalsonreturns](http://theprodigalsonreturns.tumblr.com), in honor of [SteveTonyFest](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/stevetonyfest) on tumblr this weekend!
> 
> The first two chapters are backgrounds for Steve and Tony's struggles with their daemons; the third chapter is the actual gift for theprodigalsonreturns.

Steve was twenty-four years old and the war in Europe dragged on. It had been going on for a while, of course – but it was only a year after the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor and only a year that America had been sending troops overseas.

“You know,” he said casually to Bucky in their one-bedroom flop, “we could always sign up for the war. Instead of, you know. Waiting to for the lottery.”

Bucky looked up from his painstaking penmanship. He worked as an architect with one of the bigger firms in New York, and Steve scraped by with his cartoonist work and his job as an art instructor for middle school students. They shared because there was no reason not to share, because no one would look at them strangely here, where they were known, and because.

Well.

“Why would we do that? Why would _you_ do that, Steve?” Bucky asked, voice fond.

Steve did his best not to hunch his shoulders as he continued stirring the spaghetti sauce. “I just – my dad was in the last war, you know. And they need help, you know?”

“Wanna go kill some Nazis, Steve?” Bucky teased a little.

From the overhead rafters, Linda swooped down – a [crow](http://www.carolinabirdclub.org/gallery/images/American%20Crow%20Tysinger.jpg), with large wings and a mischievous streak. “Yeah, Steve?” Bucky’s daemon cawed, hopping on the counter. “Gonna go over there and win the war?”

Linda was far more pointed and cruel than Bucky ever was, and Steve had learned not to be offended at her words. Most of the time. “I submitted my application at the local office.”

Bucky let out a little sigh and stood up from their tiny table in their tiny kitchen. Putting big, warm hands on Steve’s shoulders, he leaned a little, letting his cheek rest against the top of Steve’s head. “Steve, babe, I’m worried about your health, y’know?”

“I want to help people,” Steve murmured, a feeling of warmth blossoming in his chest.

Kara bumped her head against his ankle, and he looked down at his own daemon. He had… difficulties with her. She hadn’t settled until he was twenty – practically unheard of – and beyond that, she had settled in a child’s body. [A cougar cub](http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs47/f/2009/220/e/6/Geronimo_the_Cougar_Cub_1_by_filemanager.jpg). Adorable, spotted, looking very much like a cat to the untrained eyes that didn’t catch the slightly-too-big-paws and the rounded ears, but still. A child. Doctors had told him that it was an anomaly, unheard of. People took one look at Kara and assumed cat, and Steve never corrected their assumption – because when they found out she was a cub, not full-grown like him, they assumed he was also… not full-grown in the mind.

Bucky had never thought that. And it had been Bucky to point out how his aversion to Kara was hurting her as well as himself.

“See, Kara agrees with me, don’t you, sweetie?” Bucky murmured.

Kara leapt onto the counter and sat primly. “I think that if Steve wants to go to war, and they’ll take him, he should go. It’s what he wants.”

Linda cawed hoarsely, mantling, but Steve could pick out the worry and affection that triggered her unease. Behind him, Bucky let out a huff of air. “Well, she’s right about that,” he finally said. “If you want, well. Then I guess I’ll help as much as I can.”

***

Kara let out one of her warning hisses – so soft it was barely detectable, but Steve had been used to keeping an ear out for his baby for a while. He whirled to find Stanna, Hodge’s Rottweiler, looming over Kara.

Far from being accepted by the team around him, Steve found himself assigned the grunt work that no one wanted. While it irked him quite a bit, he resigned himself to it. At least he was accepted, even if Bucky had already been shipped out.

He missed Bucky awful fierce, though. Linda, while cutting and harsh, had a way of putting things into perspective so that he didn’t feel half as bad as he normally did.

Though Peggy Carter certainly was something to see. She was beautiful and confident, decking Hodge that first day. Her daemon was a serpent of some kind, by the name of Rex. Rex had taken a liking to Kara, though he didn’t show it much. Steve vaguely hoped that Peggy had taken the same liking to him as well.

“Kara,” he called out.

Back arched, fur puffed out, she edged back from Stanna and made her way to Steve’s side on his cot. Of course, Hodge couldn’t just let it be – he planted his feet in front of where Steve was darning his shirt and folded his arms. “That’s the weirdest cat I’ve ever seen. Boys, you seen something like that cat before?”

A few guys muttered in dissent, a few others grinned nastily. Steve had seen it before, as a kid – a guy wanted to look cool, wanted to look tough, so he found someone to contrast against. Hodge also was sweet on Peggy, though Steve didn’t think anyone knew that except Steve himself. Noticing how she sometimes favored Steve – or, at least, her daemon favored Steve’s daemon – riled Hodge up something fierce.

And that afternoon, Steve had thrown himself on a dud grenade, and it had been obvious that he’d impressed Dr. Erskine and General Phillips in doing so.

Heaving a sigh, Steve picked Kara up and ran a soothing hand down her back. “She’s my daemon,” he remarked mildly. “I can’t change her and I like her how she is. Okay?”

It looked like Hodge was going to say something more, make something out of it, but there was a sharp rap on the door and Peggy stood there in the doorway. “Private Rogers, let’s go for a trip,” she murmured. It didn’t matter that her voice was soft or that she was far away – everyone could hear her.

Hodge’s eyes promised death, even as Steve gratefully took the out – it wasn’t like he shied away from fights, but sometimes avoiding the fight was the fight in and of itself – and stood up, saluting. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and Kara hopped off the cot to half-walk, half-run after Steve. Oftentimes, he carried her, simply because her legs were so short it was incredibly difficult for her to keep up with his strides. Now, though, he could tell she definitely did _not_ want to be carried, not in front of everyone’s daemons. Slowing down would only further embarrass her, not something he wanted to do, and so he did his best to follow Peggy’s quick strides without leaving Kara behind.

It didn’t quite work, but Kara was used to it and Steve wasn’t going to take away her dignity.

Inside the car, Peggy’s Rex uncurled from around her wrist and coiled up in Peggy’s lap. “Were they giving you a problem?” he asked in that steady, clipped voice.

“No problem at all,” Kara murmured, burying her head next to Steve’s thigh.

***

No one knew what the machine would do to his daemon, other than make Kara bigger. It wasn’t like they could give the serum to her, in any case, or examine the only other daemon that had gone through the procedure – it was taboo to touch daemons, after all, and even medical examiners’ daemons hesitated to touch other daemons. Dr. Erskine had said that Schmidt had only used the serum on himself, and that it had made his wolf daemon _huge_. When he had left, Kara had muttered that she wouldn’t mind being a bit bigger. But still, watching as Kara sat upright across the floor as they strapped him in, she on her raised platform and he in this metal coffin, he had a strong urge to cuddle her close, to have her in his arms as he listened to Dr. Erskine describing the process.

Hell, he’d settle for having her near enough to whisper back and forth –

The serum began pouring into his veins, a rush of ice and fire mixed together, and he let out a soft gasp, eyes going wide. Across the way, Kara hunkered flat, fur going on end, and she let out a distressed hiss.

Suddenly, he was no longer lying flat, but being pushed horizontal, the sides closing around him. Dr. Erskine checked up on him, and he could still feel Kara, worried but present, and the icy-hot feeling was spreading, but he was good. He could do this. He _would_ do this, and go over and protect Bucky, defend the weak. Become the man his father once was.

Be something other than _useless,_ for once.

Closed up inside of the container, he couldn’t see Kara, couldn’t see anything at all except the interior. He could _feel_ , though. Could feel the searing heat, his flesh starting to twist and bend, convulse on his body, and he held in his pain for as long as he could until he could feel his _bones_ shaking apart.

He began to scream

Dimly, he could also hear a woman screaming, in pain and fear, and he couldn’t understand it, except they were going to shut it off. They were going to take away his chance, they were going to undo all their work.

“I can do this!” he yelled, desperate, begging. _He could do this_.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to fill his mouth with blood, even as the woman’s screams cut off abruptly. Peggy, he thought dazedly, and then his world whited out.

He opened his eyes, trembling, muscles twitching and cramping, feeling too big and too bulky, feeling not like himself at all. Dr. Erskine and Stark were helping him down, talking about success, and he couldn’t see straight right away, his eyes still bleary and full of tears of pain.

Then Peggy was there, Rex curling around her neck, and Dr. Erskine stepped away and a warm weight leaned against his thigh. He looked around, searching for the platform with Kara, but it was just a sea of people and he could see _the tops of their heads_ holy _shit_.

“How do you feel?”

The question made him jerk his attention back to Peggy, his bones still aching, every part of him hurting and the first thing that came to his mind was “Taller.”

Her lips quirked into a smile, Rex hissing in amusement around her neck, and then she brushed fingers against his chest – and as quickly as her fingers had darted out, they snapped back. He looked down anyway.

And saw Kara.

Kara, a huge, muscled [cougar](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-21jjDsrSgs4/TzilFXNX2oI/AAAAAAAAFa8/QtIW24HDKbM/s1600/Cougar-07.jpg), full-grown and tawny, beautiful gold eyes and black-tipped ears, wobbling like a newborn foal. Kara, who stared up at him in surprise as he stared down at her in shock.

“You grew up,” he remarked faintly.

“So did you,” she replied, voice just as weak.

Then there was a gunshot, and chaos.

***

Kara was curled around his feet, utterly silent. The plane was vibrating, and Steve stared at the vast expanse of white in his vision. She was torn up, her battle with Schmidt’s daemon doing severe damage, and Steve wasn’t feeling too hot himself.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. He knew what needed to be done – could make the calculations and see where this was going.

But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave it alone.

He hailed Peggy and General Phillips and the boys. At his feet, Kara whined softly and tucked her head behind his calf.

He made plans for a date he’d never have, listening to Peggy’s soft words, thinking back on Bucky, on the Howling Commandos, on Dr. Erskine, on his father.

He talked until he could not talk anymore.

***

Steve woke up to Kara licking his hand. He sat up, looking around, listening to a radio show spit out a baseball game, glanced around the room, and immediately thought, _this isn’t right._

Kara looked at him with too-knowing eyes, body language tense.

A woman came in, trying to be soothing, and Steve wasn’t having it. Wasn’t falling for her lies, because they _were_ lies, and if she was lying he might be in enemy hands, maybe they had removed the bombs, maybe they were going to attack someone with what they found, and he couldn’t let that happen.

The truth, as it turned out, was much, much stranger.


	2. Tony

At the age of four and seven months and twenty-two days, Daddy shoved a clear glass with whiskey in it into Tony’s hands and ordered him to drink.

At the age of four and seven months and twenty-seven days, Rajik shifted from a ferret to a type of [lemur](http://seancrane.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/indri_indri_102.jpg) (indri lemur, Tony found out – Tony was smart like that) and settled.

***

His mother noticed it first, when Rajik remained in that form for seven days running – when, previously, Rajik had shifted almost hourly from one shape to the next, taking on and discarding forms as often as Tony’s attention wandered. She wasn’t subtle about asking, as Maria Stark may have turned her back on her witch-clan, but that didn’t change the fact that she was sharp and aloof all at once.

“Rajik hasn’t transformed recently, has he?” she asked as she sat with Tony at the dinner table. Howard wasn’t there – then again, Howard stayed at the company with Uncle Obie a lot, so.

Tony lifted one shoulder casually, cutting his meat very carefully with the steak knife. His degree of control over his fingers was pretty good, but it was easier to maneuver wires and circuits. He couldn’t see why he was forbidden to just pick up the piece of meat and eat it.

“Manners, Tony,” Maria said softly, but still not soft enough to hide the steel edge in her tone.

“No, he hasn’t,” Tony replied impatiently. “ _Obviously_.”

Harmavan, Maria’s [goshawk](http://ichef.bbci.co.uk/naturelibrary/images/ic/credit/640x395/n/no/northern_goshawk/northern_goshawk_1.jpg), mantled and looked disapprovingly at Tony and Rajik both. Rajik ignored the bird, and Tony concentrated on his food.

“You are very young to have _really_ settled,” Maria finally said, voice bored even though her eyes had a different emotion in them than Tony was used to seeing. “You’ll transform soon enough.”

***

Rajik didn’t transform again. Why should he, Tony thought defensively. Why did he have to? He didn’t. Rajik knew what he wanted to be, and Tony knew what he wanted to do in life, and that was all there was to it.

 _Freak_ , whispered the other smart rich kids (dumb rich kids, Tony thought, because even here he was grades higher than he was supposed to be in the subjects that _mattered_ , who cared about history?) behind Tony’s back, and to Rajik’s face. Tony learned to keep his head high and ignore what they said.

It was harder to ignore the casual cutting words of the adults that came to his mother’s charity balls or his father’s impromptu parties. “Isn’t he – _young_ , to have settled? Is that natural?” a flighty young woman asked, hanging off an elderly man’s arm.

“The boy’s a bit queer, wouldn’t you say?” a rough-handed man would ask, puffing away at his cigar.

Maria and Howard excused or dismissed Tony entirely, respectively.

So one day, tired of the looks he got from the side, ears blistering from the lecture he had gotten for burning holes in the tablecloth because he’d been trying to see if he could use the crystal glass of wine as a magnifying glass (he could), he slipped away from the dinner party and out into the back garden.

People were there, too, but it was only to be expected. Tony retreated down the winding paths through the garden, Rajik loping alongside him on the ground (considering he was more than half the size of Tony, and more than half his weight, Tony couldn’t carry him around anymore – the only thing he missed from Rajik’s transformation days, where Tony could cuddle Rajik close whenever and wherever he wanted).

“Ah! Here’s the little master Stark, right?”

Tony turned to see a slim, old man. Well, not _old_ old, but definitely not as young as some of the wives that Maria talked to. “That’s right,” he said.

“I was wondering – see, you looked so bored in the ballroom. Would you like a toy?”

The man was extending to Tony an intricate piece of machinery, and, curious, Tony reached out and took it from the man’s hands.

There was a warning hum, and then the machine electrocuted Tony.

He fell to the floor, numb, unable to speak or say anything, even as the man’s daemon – a dog of some kind – pinned Rajik down long enough for the man to scoop Rajik up into a sack. Tony was so numb he couldn’t even shudder at the slimy feel of the man’s hands on his daemon, only leak tears from his eyes.

_Stark men are iron – they don’t cry!_

Then the man lifted him up, cradling him in too-tight arms, and Tony had never been carried this way and he didn’t _like_ it in any case, he wanted the man to put him down and never wanted to see him again.

In a car, driving, and then in a building that looked really empty and abandoned, and it would have been cool except feeling was starting to come back to Tony’s arms and legs, and they were twitching painfully. He whimpered, and then screamed when the man opened a door to a dark room and dumped Tony inside – without Rajik.

Rajik was still in that sack, twisting and writhing and crying out in that haunting voice, and Tony couldn’t walk, could only crawl towards the door.

It shut in his face, leaving him in the dark, and Rajik being taken farther and farther away from him.

 _It hurt._ It hurt so much, it tore at him, and he screamed and cried, heedless of tears and snot, as he helplessly tried to open the door, tiny fists banging on the thick metal.

Then the pain leveled off – it neither got worse nor better, and he stayed pressed up against the door, yelling Rajik’s name over and over, and faintly hearing Rajik’s howls and cries in return.

***

Howard got them back. Howard also took Tony to task for making such a scene, screaming until his voice was gone.

Tony, on the other hand, had a mission in mind. His mother was a witch, playacting at being human, but she and Harmavan knew a lot of things Tony wasn’t supposed to know that they knew. So, at the age of six years and ten months and seventeen days, three days after his kidnapping, he went to his mother’s study.

“I can’t let them take Rajik from me again,” he whispered hoarsely.

She paused, always elegant, vaguely interested in his words, pen poised over the thick stationary she still used. Harmavan cocked his head on his perch, eyeing Tony closely.

“Rajik and I want intercision.”

That startled her, he could tell. Her eyes went wide, and Harmavan mantled, a sharp screech tearing free from his throat. After a moment, she carefully placed the pen down and turned to look at him fully. “You do not know what that means,” she said, and her voice had more emotion in it than he had ever heard her express before.

“I know—” Tony stopped, swallowed. “I know that I could have tried to do _something_ , if I could think. But they took Rajik away and I—” His throat hurt, and he coughed. Rajik cuddled close to Tony, clutching at Tony’s right leg, muzzle resting on Tony’s hip and long legs bunched up against Tony’s calf.

Maria stared at him a long moment, then picked up the pen again. “Intercision is for those who come of age. For all your knowledge and skills, you have not the wisdom necessary. Instead, practice stretching your bond. It may, one day, be necessary to be very far apart from one another. Stretching your bond with your daemon will require strict discipline from you, and many, many years of practice.”

Tony stared at his mother for another moment, looking between her and Harmavan. “You didn’t separate from Harmavan, did you?” he croaked.

“No. I did not. And because I did not take part in that ritual, I am no longer welcome in my clan. But before you make such a decision, Anthony, you must first comprehend what it means. Practice stretching first.”

Tony turned and left his mother’s study, Rajik following beside him in that combination of hopping and loping, body hunched over. They made their way through the sprawling mansion, up to Tony’s wing, where Tony promptly climbed out of his window and up the roof of the mansion to curl against the chimney. Rajik let out a long sigh, scratching at his neck with his foot, ears twitching in the cool air.

“We’re gonna have to practice a lot,” Tony mouthed. His throat still hurt from all his screaming and crying, and he didn’t have to really speak aloud for Rajik to understand him, anyway.

Rajik curled up in Tony’s lap, head resting in the crook of Tony’s throat and arms wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, and instinctively Tony curled around Rajik as well, burying his nose in the silky black and white fur. “We will,” he said in his short, barking voice. It was high-pitched, an almost yelping sound, but it was soothing, especially coupled with the fact that Rajik stroked his hand over Tony’s head repeatedly. “We won’t let it happen again.”

***

In a cave, with metal sitting heavy in his chest and a smiling liar offering him freedom in return for weapons, Tony stared at the weapons around them and turned to Yinsen. “I want my daemon. I can’t concentrate without him.”

Yinsen, a prisoner like Tony who had had his daemon taken as well, looked at Tony a long moment before murmuring to Tony’s jailer. For a moment, that smile nearly faltered – but then, it grew, and the man laughed widely and offered his hand to Tony.

Tony offered a smile just as false, and shook it.

***

“You can concentrate just fine without your daemon,” Yinsen murmured one night, as they stared up at the rock ceiling and pretended to sleep without nightmares. “How is that, I wonder?”

Tony swallowed hard, felt Rajik’s fingers dance gently around the wires that connected the electromagnet to the car battery, closed his eyes when Rajik’s hand stroked over his head in the familiar and soothing gesture from so long ago. “Practice,” he replied.

***

Rajik frowned at the armor. “That looks like a box. It should be more streamlined.”

“Of course it’s a box,” Tony snapped back. “I need a carrier for you, don’t I? I don’t know how high I’ll need to fly. I can’t be distracted by the bond if you’re on the ground and I’m in the air.”

Absently playing with a screen in front of himself, Rajik murmured, “Maybe I shouldn’t have settled so early.”

“You settled when you were ready. And we’ll deal, okay? You – I need your support in this, Rajik.” Tony swallowed hard, because everyone thought he was crazy, Obie had told him to lie low, Pepper was trying to figure out how to compensate for the stock drop, and Tony really needed Rajik to believe he could do this.

Rajik lifted his head, gold-green eyes startled. “T, I’m fine. I – of course I support you. I never _not_ supported you.”

Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and smirked. “That wasn’t grammatically correct.”

“Your _face_ isn’t grammatically correct,” Rajik grumbled in that hoarse barking noise that made Tony laughed, and he did, loud and long and if he was in hysterics and crying with Rajik curled around his chest at the end of it, well.

No one was there to see it except JARVIS and the ‘bots, after all.

***

Eventually, Tony and Rajik came up with a bullet-shaped design that Rajik could travel in on the back of the Mark III armor, better than the blocky container attached to the Mark II.

It came in handy sooner than Tony would have liked to use it, though. And when his chest began to hurt from prolonged usage, and when Rajik began to be more listless, eyes clouding over, he knew something was wrong.

JARVIS’s scans only confirmed Tony’s worst fears – he was dying.

He looked at Rajik, and Rajik looked at Tony solemnly before his mouth stretched into a wry grin.

“Might as well go out awesome, right?”

“Read my mind, Raj,” Tony murmured affectionately, and cradled Rajik to his chest.

***

Tony woke up to the Hulk, a mix of Bruce and his daemon Kittaya, roaring in his face. He was on his side, Thor yanking at the smooth cover over Rajik’s face off so that the lemur could breathe. In front of him, Rogers was kneeling down, a look of such relief on his face that it took Tony aback.

“What happened?” he asked, vaguely aware of his weak voice and faint slur. Everyone was standing around him – well, mostly everyone, Thor and Rogers and Bruce and Kara. He remembered –

— _inky darkness, hundreds and hundreds of lights, distant stars in shapes of constellations he’d never seen before, Rajik behind him gasping and JARVIS cutting out, whispering, “I’m glad it’s you and me, in the end, Raj” and wishing he could feel Rajik’s hands on his head one more time—_

“Please tell me no one kissed me,” he rushed out, first thing that came to his head, first thing he could say to lighten the tension filling the air around them. Rogers grinned crookedly, and Kara sniffed at Rajik before padding back to Rogers’ side and leaning heavily against him.

“We won,” Rogers replied, voice wondrous, head tilted up to stare at the empty sky.

Tony stared at him, babbling words he didn’t understand, and wondered why Rogers seemed to glow.


	3. Nightmares

They weren’t a team yet. Steve wanted them to be – he wanted a team _so badly_ , wanted the easy familiarity and warmth, the feeling of being a _unit_ , a family.

Well, he corrected himself mentally, three of them were a team.

Fury had put Natasha and Clint on a team with him, and they worked well together. Very well; it was eerie, how Clint’s [falcon](http://mendobrew.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Peregrine-falcon-talons.jpg) and Natasha’s [panther](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O6jkHBY_k6I/ULUHI7ZwoVI/AAAAAAAALVw/9fsOCLjK68Q/s1600/black+panther+\(6\).jpg) and Steve’s [cougar](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-21jjDsrSgs4/TzilFXNX2oI/AAAAAAAAFa8/QtIW24HDKbM/s1600/Cougar-07.jpg) could also work in tandem. Thor was a bit more difficult to adapt to them, if only because he was used to taking charge, but even then he had fought in a group before and knew how to rely on teammates.

Bruce was a lot more difficult to adapt to, because once he gripped the side of his daemon, [Kittaya](http://tallahasseemuseum.org/uploads/images/wildlifeFlorida/blackBear.jpg), and let his anger rip through his body, he and his daemon became a ravaging beast, a Hulk that understood human speech but barely used monosyllabic words to communicate back.

And Tony.

Steve punched the bag in front of him, a punch that, before, would have split the bag and sent it flying. This bag only vibrated, giving enough not to break his knuckles but firm enough to provide resistance.

Tony had designed this for him.

Hell, Tony had designed the whole goddamned gym. He’d built a floor for each Avenger, gave them options of furniture and décor, and then proceeded to ignore them all. He was constantly in motion, and the entire tower was outfitted with outcropping metal beams that mimicked tree branches for Tony’s daemon, [Rajik](http://seancrane.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/indri_indri_102.jpg), a species of lemur, to travel around by. Kara, Steve’s daemon, sometimes took advantage of them too, and Steve was certain he’d seen Screiya, Clint’s peregrine falcon, and Novorrock, Natasha’s black panther, up in those beams as well.

Tony invited them in and locked them out in the same breath.

They were getting used to each other in their downtime, even Bruce and his nervous and shy daemon Kittaya (a black bear on the smallish side). But Tony closeted himself away in his workshop, or jetted halfway around the world. Tony was never _there_. It bothered Steve more on a personal level than anything, because he grudgingly liked Tony and he could get to know the man better if he was ever _present_. It also bothered Steve on a professional level, because Tony needed to know and trust his teammates just as they needed to know and trust him in turn.

With a sigh, he stepped away from the punching bag and unwound the bandages from his hands.

Kara let out a relieved huff and stood up from where she had sprawled across the bench, leaping off and padding to Steve’s side. “You don’t sleep enough anymore,” she grumbled.

“Don’t need to sleep as much, anymore,” he responded easily.

“Well, maybe _I_ want to sleep.”

Steve looked down his nose at her. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know.”

Kara grumbled under her breath and butted his knee with her huge head. With a warm smile, Steve petted her head, scratching behind her ears, and reveled in the dark and quiet for a moment more.

Grabbing the bag with his supplies, Steve took the elevator to the common floor shared between all the Avengers, looking for something to eat and drink before heading to the library to read. It was almost four in the morning – it had been three when Steve had woken up out of his sleep because of a nightmare – and going back to sleep would be pointless.

On the common floor, however, there was someone else.

Tony sometimes fell asleep on the couch. He never actually interacted with them, but he would sit down with a tablet on his lap and a phone by his side and a pad of paper on the other side and would end up nodding off. The team had mostly gotten used to it, and had stopped inviting him to join them after the first few times, and now they’d just drop a blanket over him if he looks a bit cold but for the most part just go about their business around him, whether it was a group dinner, a video game tournament, watching a movie, or just a few of them relaxing in the other chairs and sofas. When Tony was awake and moving, he was tensed, tight, locked down and defensive, but asleep was a different matter. Tony never woke up from the noise around him, never reacted, and Steve never saw him so at peace except when he slept.

Tony was asleep there now, sprawled out on his back, curled under a blanket, but he wasn’t at peace.

Kara let out a chuff of distress at Tony’s harsh breathing, and above them, in one of the many nests Tony’s daemon had built for sleeping, Rajik was letting out whines of pain and fear.

He probably shouldn’t interfere. He _shouldn’t_ , because nightmares were private personal hells that no one wanted exposed to the world.

But he couldn’t leave Tony in pain, for reasons he had tried to keep buried for a while now.

Going to his knees by the couch, he made sure he was out of striking range and then tugged on the blanket. “Tony,” he said, loudly and firmly. “Tony, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

Tony whimpered, helpless and broken, and Steve decided he could risk touching if it got Tony to stop that noise. After all, the Steve was a fast healer, if Tony woke up swinging. Reaching forward, Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezed a little. “ _Tony_ ,” he repeated, forcefully. “Tony, wake up.”

With a gasp, Tony jerked up and away, hands going to his chest, shoulders curling in protectively. Rajik yelped – Kara had climbed up to try and wake Rajik, in the hopes that an awake daemon could wake Tony – and dropped like a stone from the nest before scampering over to Tony’s side and worming his way against Tony’s chest, covering the arc reactor.

Tony’s breathing was harsh, rapid, and it didn’t look like he was really _seeing_ Steve. Quietly, calmly, so as not to startled Tony, Steve got off the floor and sat down next to Tony. “You okay?” he asked softly. “You wanna – talk about it?”

A breathless, bitter laugh forced its way out of Tony’s throat, even as Rajik squirmed in Tony’s hold and twisted to bring a hand up to Tony’s head for a stroking motion that looked strangely intimate. Kara put her head in Steve’s lap, looking wistfully at the two of them. Jealous? Steve hoped not; just in case, though, he put his hand on her head and stroked slowly.

“What – what’re you doing here, Rogers?” Tony finally forced out.

Steve held Tony’s gaze a long moment. They’d been dancing around each other for weeks now, and Steve knew Tony was smart. Maybe he was deliberately oblivious on certain interpersonal cues, but there was no way Tony could be as good a business man as he was without being able to read people. Tony knew Steve’s feelings.

Tony looked away first.

Since he hadn’t meant it to be a challenge, Steve replied, “I was heading up from the gym for something to drink and maybe eat. I saw you on the couch.”

After a heartbeat or two, Tony laughed harshly and buried his fingers in Rajik’s fur. “I’m fine, Rogers.”

The surname made Steve pause. “See, you would’ve had a better chance convincing me of that if you hadn’t used my last name. My offer is still – there. If you want to talk. I know—” he raised his voice over Tony’s incredulous snort, “—I know you don’t normally talk to people, you don’t _need_ to talk to people. But sometimes you _want_ to. Besides, what do you think has me up this early? It wasn’t nice dreams that woke me at three in the morning.”

“Yeah?” Tony said, but the rough edge in his voice wasn’t as rough as it could have been.

“Yeah,” Steve echoed, leaning back against the couch. “We all have things we’d rather not face in the dark.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then Tony uncurled from his position on the couch and settled in – not _directly_ next to Steve, but close enough that Steve could feel Tony’s body-heat. Rajik shifted to sit to the side of Tony, head and arms on Tony’s lap “Just – dreams. Can’t hurt anyone,” Tony mumbled.

It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the weak kitchen light (that one was always on, no matter what) and the glow of Tony’s reactor.

“They can hurt you, though,” Steve said quietly. “They hurt a lot, when you’re having them. Sometimes they can hurt the people around you, if you’re not sleeping.”

He thought back to Tony over the past few weeks, the ever-darkening circles under his eyes, the twitchiness, the anxiety level. “How long have you been having these dreams?”

Tony tapped a finger against his arc reactor, playing with the light.

The non-answer was worse than a direct answer. Heaving a sigh, Steve instinctively reached out and put his hand on Tony’s head – a leftover instinct, trying to reassure and soothe at one time, a remembered intimacy he’d had with Bucky, once – and froze.

Tony turned to stare at him. And then, ever so slightly, Tony leaned into his hand.

Tentatively, Steve stroked down Tony’s head, cupping the shape of Tony’s skull, running his fingernails lightly over Tony’s scalp, and Tony shivered. Rajik let out a hum of contentment, eyes slipping blissfully shut.

Tony didn’t move away, didn’t tell Steve to leave, and Steve, feeling bold in the darkness, slid closer to Tony so that they were touching, so that he could pull Tony in and let the other man lean against his shoulder.

Steve half-hypnotized himself with the repetitive motions, nearly falling into a doze himself, when Tony whispered against Steve’s shoulder, “I sleep better around – others. The team.” There was another beat of silence, and then Tony continued, voice full of shame, “They make me feel safe.”

Steve barely paused his movements, and it was Kara who replied in a quiet rumble, “They would be happy to know that. We like you around.”

Tony suddenly twisted in Steve’s hold, turning to face Steve squarely. “You? You like me around?” he asked, but there was something in his tone that made Steve think twice before answering.

“Tony – I don’t think I ever made it a secret how much I like you, and like you around,” he finally said, hoping it was enough.

Tony held his gaze, challenging, but there was something else in the back of his eyes. “Rajik settled when I was four.”

It was a curious way to start out, and Steve had had no idea Tony had been so mature at such a young age. “Kara didn’t finish settling until after the serum,” he replied easily.

“My bond with Rajik is stretched.”

Steve smiled a little. “So’s mine.”

Tony took a deep breath in and let it out. “You made a move towards this direction weeks ago.”

“I’d wondered if you caught that,” Steve murmured, voice teasing a little.

The tone and words made some of the seriousness melt from Tony’s face, revealing the playfulness and humor that Steve was used to seeing there. Still, it was with all seriousness when Tony said, “A lot of people would think you shouldn’t get mixed up with me.”

“When, in my history as Captain America, have I ever done what people think I should?” Steve countered.

“It might not work. In fact, statistically speaking all my relationships crash and burn.”

Steve smiled. “You can’t know that for sure – and even if you did, I’ll take what I can get with you before that happens.”

Tony took a deep breath in, and then there was a fleeting touch on Steve’s bare arm – he’d been wearing a tank top – that was a shock of warmth, full of electricity and brought the taste of coconut to his tongue. He looked down to see Rajik hesitantly pressing his nose against Steve’s elbow, nudging gently.

The intimacy made Steve’s head spin, and when he jerked his surprised gaze up to Tony’s face, he barely got any warning at all before Tony leaned forward and kissed Steve, slow and sweet, licking and nibbling at Steve’s lips. Steve made a sound of shock, and then Kara let out a rough purr as the kiss deepened.

It was Tony who pulled back, licking his lips, and then Tony was straddling Steve’s waist and pressing his face against Steve’s chest.

“You always make me feel the safest,” Tony whispered against Steve’s chest.

***

(Clint’s camera flash was what woke them up, and Tony had drooled on Steve’s chest and Kara had curled up across Steve’s feet, with Rajik on her back, and Steve’s legs were asleep because Tony was not half as light as he thought he was, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it, not even trying to stand up before his legs were fully awake and falling on his face, because Tony was awake and laughing, and he was mildly threatening Clint, and he was _interacting_ , and Steve thought yeah, this could work.)


End file.
